


Green Eyes

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Jealousy, Pre-Relationship, Some other guy chatting Abbie up and we just can't have that okay? mhm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching Abbie interact with another man, Ichabod's jealous.</p><p>He just doesn't realise that yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some jealous pre-relationship Ichabod and it came out like this. I'm kind of so so on it, but jealous standoffish Ichabod is too cute.
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

He tries not to notice and fails.

Ichabod isn't particularly sure why he can't take his eyes off of Abbie and the man having joined her at the table, but he cannot. It's improper to stare and yet, is it not even more improper for a strange man to assert himself upon Abbie in such a way, pushing into her personal space as though it was warranted?

The perks of having falsified identification is lost on Ichabod as he awaits on their order of drinks, fingers drumming impatiently against the bar. The impatience is completely irrational and equally as unwarranted. Waiting has never been a strong suit of his, although it was more or less battered out of him during the war. Two hundred years later, he finds it has returned.

Returned in time to be unable to rejoin Abbie at their table and divert her attention from the unknown male currently conversing with her.

Ichabod inhales sharply and forces him to breathe out slowly, turning his attention to the far wall. Abbie is capable. Ichabod may not trust a man that saunters over into a woman's personal space, but Abbie is capable. She can take care of herself. Of that, Ichabod is sure.

It is irksome that it does not lessen his impatience to return to her side.

When he looks over again, the man is leaning over Abbie's shoulder, pointing at something on the paper she's perusing. They are both laughing. Ichabod longs to hear their conversation and then loathes himself for the thought. How impudent, wishing to eavesdrop. Had he not been berating the questionable man for being too assertive, as it were? Who was he to wish to listen in on Miss Mill's conversation? It made him no better than the common criminal.

Ichabod sighs and settles his gaze back onto the wall. There is nothing to keep his attention, and his impassive look surely is turning to that of a glare. He hopes not, but fears that it may be. How long must one wait on a drink in this establishment?

No more than he has that thought than are the drinks in question set in front of him. Ichabod lifts them away from the bar with more gusto than strictly necessary, turning on his heel to stride across the room.

He is back at Abbie's side in less than six strides, looping around to the opposite side of the table to stand a half step too close to her. He sets her drink down with a quiet tap. "Abbie," he says, nodding at her, and meets her startled, confused gaze for a brief moment before looking at her newest companion. "And who is this?" he asks politely.

He hates to admit it, but he doesn't feel particularly polite. Nonetheless, he smiles and looks to the man in question, tilting his head in faux questioning whilst trying to read the man's intentions.

"Oh, I was just talking to your friend about the concert." The man nods to the newspaper. "It was a hell of a thing; I heard they might come back next year."

"Oh, I hadn't the pleasure of witnessing the concert," Ichabod says with the same, forced smile.

"Next time, then," the man replies cheerfully. He's perfectly amicable, and yet Ichabod decidedly does not like him. "Maybe I'll see you there," the man continues, and he is most definitely talking only to Abbie when he says it.

Ichabod straightens his shoulder slightly, fingers clenching around his own cold pint still in his hand. He tries to relax, and fails when Abbie replies, "Sure, maybe".

The man ambles on his way, sidling up to the bar to presumably order his own drink. Ichabod watches his back, narrowing his eyes slightly. _Maybe I shall see you there, indeed_ , he thinks.

"Are you going to sit down or what?"

Ichabod blinks, startling back to reality as Abbie speaks to him. He realises that he's still standing next to her, staring at the man who has walked away. He looks down at Abbie, feels the familiar trickle of embarrassment through his body, and hurriedly takes his seat across from her. "Apologies. Our drinks took longer than expected."

Abbie looks at him a little strangely. "Okay, not a big deal."

Ichabod takes advantage of the alcohol as a reason not to respond, and he gulps rather than sips at the pint he'd requested. He isn't sure why Abbie has that look on her face; unless... was he that transparent? He only wishes the best for her, surely that isn't a travesty. Her stare unnerves him, although he tries to push it to the back of his mind.

Abbie, thankfully, takes reign of the conversation, pointing at the police reports section of the newspaper. "This is the one I was telling you about."

Ichabod leans forward eagerly to read the details of the report; Abbie leans forward in preparation of the discussion sure to follow.

He pretends that he doesn't notice the smell of her perfume and how it calms him back into his new reality, and as they discuss the details of a potential case, he tries not to feel too defensive when he notices the man casting a glance towards Abbie not ten minutes later. He is helpless to the way his shoulder angles towards Abbie just infinitesimally, though, as well as the satisfaction he feels when the man turns away and does not look back.

He is, of course, unsure to the nature of Abbie and the man's conversation beyond the apparent concert, and yet he thinks that the laughter he and she share over case details has to be infinitely all the more sweeter still.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~he totally didn't get super jealous and defensive and call her Abbie instead of miss mills or lieutenant yes she's giving him weird looks because of that~~


End file.
